


angels unaware

by blackkat



Series: Horoscope Drabbles [17]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 22:03:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17271947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: She thinks, sometimes, that she sees flashes of them, her people, lost in the movement of the people around her.





	angels unaware

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Normal Horoscopes on Tumblr: 
> 
> Aquarius: She was built to save some ancient race long ago. Nowadays her memory is poor, and she figures she will get it right eventually. If only she could remember what they looked like.

She thinks, sometimes, that she sees flashes of them, her people, lost in the movement of the people around her.

Illusions. Tenten knows it. There's no space in her memory for the faces of those who created her, who forgot her. It’s been too many years, and the things that have come in the times between then and now are precious, too precious to overwrite.

One of those things stirs, fingers tightening on Tenten's thigh, face twisting. “Are you _awake_?” she complains.

Tenten laughs a little, brushing her fingers over golden hair. “You're awake, too,” she says reasonably, and Temari grunts.

“No, I'm not,” she counters, and curls closer, cheek pressed to Tenten's stomach. “You shouldn’t be, either.”

Tenten's fingers itch, sometimes. They were made for weapons, for fighting. Every inch of her body was carefully constructed, created for a purpose. She remembers the moment of creation, too, even if she remembers little else from that time. They made her too late, she thinks. Or maybe she woke too late. She couldn’t save them.

“I had a dream,” she says in explanation, because Temari always seems to understand.

There's a pause, and Temari cracks one green eye open, looking up at her. “Bad dream?” she asks.

Tenten shakes her head. “Just a dream.” Or maybe it was a memory—it’s hard to tell at this point. But there were people there, and she wanted to reach out, to call them closer, see their faces, only to find herself frozen and voiceless, like she existed behind a pane of glass.

It was a laboratory, or maybe a temple. Tenten isn't quite sure.

Temari is silent for a long second, fingertips tracing circuitry patterns on Tenten's thigh. Then she blows out a breath and sits up, smoothing her hair back behind her ears. “Distraction?” she asks, because Temari _always_ knows the thing to ask.

Tenten grins at her. “We could go flying,” she suggests.

Temari rolls her eyes, but she’s already sliding out of bed. “You just want to hunt rogues in the wastes,” she accuses.

It’s true, so Tenten doesn’t try to deny it. “You like to watch,” she retorts.

“I do.” Temari pulls a bra on, then a shirt, and turns to look at Tenten. Pauses again, and says, “We’ll find them for you, Tenten. There has to be a record somewhere.”

Her people. Or maybe they're not hers anymore. Tenten just smiles, and says, “I know you will. But I'm happy here, too.”

Temari's expression twists, regret and humor and relief, and she leans in to kiss Tenten, sweet and lingering. And really, this is all Tenten needs.


End file.
